A Cruel and Unusual Romance
by Noelie
Summary: Once a year the Jedi are required to take a member of the Diplomatic core out on a date to foster good relations and keep lines of communication open. That is the offical story. The truth however is something else indeed!Story by DarthIshtar
1. Chapter 1

A Cruel and Unusual Romance-Part One- A Story by DarthIshtar

It was a time-honored tradition, but something that no one particularly wanted to acknowledge. Worst of all, like most time-honored traditions, it was both an embarrassment and a service opportunity. Nevertheless, every twelfth day of the second month, the Jedi could anticipate the arrival of their assignments.

They were delivered quietly sometime during the night without fanfare or knowledge of who dispersed the datacards. Some of the younger ones would anticipate the event with such great trepidation that they would wait until their Masters were asleep and then keep a silent vigil beside the front door.

It was said to be one of the greatest lessons that a Jedi could learn if he applied himself properly to the task at hand, but those who had experienced it knew that it usually ended in something equivalent to heartache and tears.

The older group was divided in its perspective, since most held sympathy for those who were not accustomed to it, but others gloated over the inexperience of their younger compatriots and took every opportunity to make the situation worse.

The assignments pleased no one, but they were normally accepted with both resignation and obedience.

For the most part, that is.

Obi-Wan could remember his first assignment as if he were still twelve years old. He had been chartered by the Chandrilan delegation and it was considered both an easy task and a great honor, but he had made the mistake of attempting to blot out the entire event in a most inappropriate manner.

To whit, he had accepted the Chandrilan cognac that was offered every few minutes in order to 'loosen up' as his Master had counseled. He had woken up the next morning half-dressed on the streets of Coruscant, head throbbing both from the hangover and the fact that he had run into Master Yoda sometime during the night.

In the four years since that debacle, he had learned both temperance and humility in facing this challenge, but it didn't make the event any easier.

"Stop watching the door," Qui-Gon commanded sternly. "Sitting next to it until the break of dawn won't hasten the delivery."

"No," Obi-Wan agreed gloomily, "but I'll get first crack at it, as they say."

He seemed to be more eager than the previous year, which suggested that he had an ulterior motive, but it was difficult these days to find a Jedi who didn't.

"You have your eye on anything in particular this year?"

"Not at all," Obi-wan muttered, peering intently under the crack of the door to spy the approaching messengers.

"There is nothing to be worried about," Qui-Gon soothed. "It wil be a learning experience to say the least."

Obi-wan turned a reproachful glare on him. "I'm sure you'd be just as anxious as I am if you hadn't been on the short-list of the Alderaanian delegation for the last thirty years."

It was true that his assignment had been almost exclusively Alderaanian since his days as a Padawan and that was one of the more enjoyable aspects of this much-anticipated fiasco. The administrative aide that he had met in his third year and who was now the senior Senator was a good friend in particular.

_This is ridiculous._

"Padawan," Qui-gon barked, "if you don't move in three seconds, I'm going to have to assign you to minding the younglings for the next three months."

Within two seconds, Obi-wan had demonstrated remarkable agility in scrambling to the other side of the room.

"I'm up! I'm up!" he yelped in obvious panic.

"Good," Qui-Gon said calmly. "Now, let's have a sedate, civilized..."

"Delivery!"

They both scrambled back across the room, snatching up the datacards and heading off in opposite directions to find an available datapad.

Obi-wan's hands were trembling so hard that he was amazed that he could even find the slot for his datacard, much less activate it, but his efforts were rewarded a few moments later when the text came on-screen.

_Padawan Kenobi, _

We thank you for your willingness to cooperate in the yearly public relations effort to be held on the fourteenth day of the second month. We know it will be an excellent learning experience as it has been for the Jedi in the last three hundred years.

This year, it is the wish of the Corellian embassy that you liaise with Lady Carmyn Delairs, daughter of the chief ambassador. She awaits your contact to make the necessary arrangements.

We anticipate that you will bring honor to the Jedi in this time-honored tradition and that your efforts will only further our cause of promoting good relations between our Order and the peoples whom we serve.

Again, we thank you for your efforts.

Sincerely,  
The Jedi Council

The wording was formal, but he just _knew_ that they had been laughing uncontrollably (or however the Council did such things) while writing the assignment. Indeed, the assignments themselves were evidence of a cruel sense of humor from generations past.

It had begun, as the Council claimed, in an effort to promote understanding between the Jedi and their Force-blind counterparts. They would accept the invitations of any distinguished party that would offer one of its own and allow one of the Jedi to escort them in a night of activities.

The Jedi had strict guidelines that forbade romantic attachments and this one excursion seemed to always devolve into the efforts of the non-Jedi party to marry one of their own to a suitable Jedi. It therefore had the effect of terrifying almost every Jedi into following the guidelines on love.

It had worked so effectively that for many generations, every Jedi from the age of twelve on had been forced to go on one date to break the spirit of his or her hormones. It was remarkably successful.

Obi-Wan glanced over the brief missive once more, but it didn't inspire the same terror as in years past.

An ambassador's daughter. Well, it was better than last year's attempts to ingratiate himself to a swoop-racer from Raltiir. This young woman would know things such as decorum and refinement.

Perhaps he had overestimated the Council's cruelty.

"Absolutely not," Mace snapped.

"A great honor this is," Yoda countered. "Good relations we must build with all sentients and respect you greatly they do."

Well, that was understandable, since he had negotiated a trade agreement that had narrowly avoided slave trade on that world. And he _was_ a member of the Council, so they would expect him to set an example for the others.

Still...

"I can't even pronounce her name," he lamented.

"Ralataricha," Yoda supplied. "A most agreeable name suggesting her nobility."

"Ralataricha," Mace muttered. "I wouldn't be able to say it ten times fast, much less remember the inflections."

"No need for that is there," Yoda assured him, whacking him with his gimer stick, which seemed to be his only gesture of affection. "Call her Rala you may."

That was better. If his escort were already being less formal than some of his other victims, it boded well for their ability to converse freely. There was just one objection to the entire arrangement to be had.

"I am not spending my yearly date with a Wookiee!" "What time is Lady Delairs arriving?" Qui-Gon asked idly.

"1800," Obi-Wan supplied, running a comb through his damp hair. "What about Noela?"

Qui-Gon scowled at the mirror at the casual way in which Obi-Wan referred to Senator Ovorp, but given the number of years that she had been a friend to them both, it was hardly surprising.

"The same," he explained. "We had no desire to make things awkward for you by forcing you to meet your companion on your own."

"I've heard she's quite charming," Obi-Wan mused, frowning into the mirror as he prepared a razor and foam for his jawline. "Just a few months younger than me and with aspirations to enter the diplomatic corps."

"I've heard the same," Qui-gon said mildly. "What are your plans for the evening?"

"Dinner to start with and we have tickets to a concert given by a friend of hers."

"Really," Qui-gon said with a smile. "Your idea or hers?"

He could see Obi-wan's smile under the shaving foam. "I did my research, Master, just as you requested."

Obi-Wan frequently made him proud, but it was rarely due to obedience. Qui-gon found his own smile growing.

"And yourself?"

"Dinner at the 23rd Hour," he named the restaurant that he and Noela had discovered on their first 'assignment' together, twenty-four years ago, "as per tradition. Then we thought we'd go to the new exhibition at the Republica Gallery."

"Thrilling, I'm sure," Obi-wan snorted.

It wasn't thrilling, per se, but Qui-gon had certainly grown to enjoy this tradition, this yearly opportunity to cement friendship and explore new ones. The situation with Noela was hardly romantic, though they kept in touch several times a week both out of friendly affection and diplomatic necessity, but it was certainly comfortable.

Suddenly, the door chimed.

"Blast," Obi-wan stammered. "She's early!"

There was no doubt who he meant by 'she,' since they would have recognized Noela outside, but the person impatiently hit the chime once more as Obi-wan hastily finished his shave and toweled off, heading for the door.

Qui-gon, not one to miss a spectacle, moved to a position where he could observe the proceedings.

The first thing he noticed when the door opened was the hair. A surprisingly flattering shade of fuschia, it was a stark contrast to the skin that looked as if it had never been touched by sunlight, but matched the eyepaint and lipstick perfectly. Below that, there was a good deal of bare skin before the strapless black-and-fuschia corset began, followed by a skirt that was certainly long enough to be modest, but cut up the sides so that absolutely nothing would be left to the imagination once she started moving along on those swoop-racer booted feet.

"Good evening," she said in a lilting, cultured voice. "If you are Obi-Wan, then I suppose that makes me your date for the evening


	2. Chapter 2

CAUR-Part 2

It wasn't like Noela to be late, but given the blizzard that had been developing all day, it was understandable that she would be held up by the inclement weather.

He did not, however, anticipate that she would be three hours late so far.

There had been a call filled with static and frustration sometime around 1830, which he took to mean that she was on her way, but he'd been unable to reach her ever since.

The 23rd Hour, always patient with its longest-standing pair of patrons, had agreed to push back the reservation every half hour, but the exhibition was obviously no longer a viable option.

Nevertheless, he would treat her with all propriety...the moment she arrived.

While he waited, he poured two glasses of the Alderaanian green wine that she had presented to him on his birthday last year. The wait would give the liquor time to breathe and improve the flavor.

He had just recorked the carafe when the chime rang. Stretching out with the Force, he ascertained that it was Noela in a very foul temper.

He waved a hand at the door release, then retrieved both glasses and crossed to the entryway to give her one.

Noela was definitely one of the more attractive Senators ever elected in the Republic, with a thick plait of golden-brown hair falling to her waist, narrow features and blue eyes that always seemed to look amused. She was an impeccable dresser and took pains to look elegant.

Tonight, however, the Noela he knew was replaced by something looking and sounding vaguely like a drowned vrelt.

"I tried to comm," Noela stammered through chattering teeth, "but we were broken down in the middle of the worst comm interference and there wasn't much time, between fixing..."

He cut her off by pulling her into a tight embrace and not letting go until the warmth of his arms had lessened the shivering a bit.

"Don't worry," he said quietly. "You can warm up here and I'll call the 23rd Hour. They've been holding our reservation."

She pulled back, nodding. "I'm not sure we'd make it before closing," she lamented. "It's a nightmare out there and I was just coming from a few kilometers away."

Glancing out the window at the blinding snow, he frowned. "You may be right," he conceded, "so let me see what I can do." 

"What should I do?"

His eyes scanned over the open door to Obi-Wan's room. "I'd offer you a change of clothes from my own closet, but the slacks are probably twice as long as yourself, so I think you could avail yourself of something in Obi-Wan's closet. The 'fresher has a hot shower and clean towels..." 

She shook her head with a slightly unreadable smile, then stretched up to kiss his cheek. The spot burned unexpectedly under the touch and he arched an eyebrow at her retreating form. "What was that for?"

"Being nice to a drowned vrelt," she called over her shoulder.

Sometimes, he swore that the woman could read minds. Qui-gon's first rule of social etiquette was to leave the commlink Deactivated, but Carmyn's father seemed to have discarded that lesson in favor of shock value tactics. Even before they had ordered, Carmyn had taken three calls. She had apologized profusely, then set it to vibrate and tucked it out of sight.

Despite first impressions and her unfortunate attachment to the commlink, she seemed to be a delightful person with many talents. By the time the main course arrived, he had heard about everything from her studies at the Dilen Technical Institute to the three children her family was sponsoring at one of Coronet's top educational institutions.

He was just beginning to truly enjoy himself when the commlink began vibrating. Her eyes lit up as she checked the commsender's code. "It's Gareth," she explained. "The one giving the concert."

Standing, she headed to a more private corner where she could take the call and leave him to his braised nerf steak. Not one to brood, he ate in silence until she returned, looking decidedly gloomy.

"The concert's been snowed out," Carmyn said unhappily. "Pity. I think you might have liked Nexu Guillotine."

"I'm sure I would have," Obi-Wan said with a slight smile. "Creative names usually yield good music."

"Glad you think so," she pronounced, arranging herself in the chair across the table. "I guess we'll call it an early night, then."

She looked so crestfallen that the words came out of his mouth before he could stop them. "I don't know about that," he consoled. "There's a holocomplex just down the street with lots of heating and some shows that I've heard good things about."

He had expected a lot of things out of her, but never that she would look rather bashful at the suggestion. "You mean it?" she said quietly.

"Sure," he replied genially. "I'd hate to end things here."

Finally, she smiled again. "Great," she pronounced. "I heard Blood-sucking Padawans From the Unknown Regions is the best!"

His smile remained in place, but he had the strange feeling that this was suddenly going to be a very long night. "Tala, I presume?"

It was a stupid question, since there was only one Wookiee in the entire restaurant, but he had to be sure.

The Wookiee roared a response that the translator chip in his earpiece processed as "Master Windu, a pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure is mine," he said through gritted teeth, wishing his companion didn't favor handshakes, but reflecting that it was at least better than a friendly hug. "If you don't mind, I took the liberty of ordering for us."

"As long as it has meat," Tala whuffled, "I trust your judgment."

Mace himself was not much of a carnivore, but Yoda had threatened a year of initiate excursions if he didn't order somethat was still twitching, so he had made a compromise and gotten steak for them both.

"I heard one of your recordings recently," he observed, "and I rather enjoyed it."

The Wookiee may have looked surprised or perhaps she was just wrinkling her nose. It was hard to tell. 

"I'm surprised you found it."

"One of our combat instructors is a great fan of yours," Mace explained, "and she was playing the Dikari Sonatas during a sparring session I attended. Your music has great empathy."

The teeth-baring was entirely non-threatening this time. "Master Windu," she growled, "I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship." "Well," Qui-Gon said sheepishly, "it's not exactly bruallki, but it's the right meat and Isome/I of the right spices, so hopefully it'll do."

Noela shook her head in amazement. "I go to clean up and you try to replicate the dinner we missed," she mused. "I suppose you got out your fingerpaints to imitate the exhibition?"

"Not enough time," he complained, "but if you're willing to ignore a lot of cursing and muttering for a few hours, I'll be happy to oblige." 

She laughed easily, waving a hand. "No need," she assured. "I can live with the disappointment."

His smile broadened. "In that case, dinner is served."

He helped her into the chair, then took his own seat, watching closely as she skewered a piece of meat and tucked it into her mouth. Her eyelids dropped rather abruptly over her eyes as she drew in a sharp breath. 

IOh, Sith, I've killed her./I

"Qui-Gon," she choked, "why the heavens are you not married?"

He let out a long sigh of relief, then shrugged. "It's forbidden," he mused, "and I don't think any woman could tolerate me."

"She could tolerate your imitation-bruallki," she sighed, "so I think she could put up with your snoring."

"My…" He scowled. "How did you know about that?"

"What?" she said innocently. "You think you're the only one your Padawan talks to?"

Qui-Gon rolled his eyes towards the stars, but didn't refute that. "What about you?" he asked idly as she swallowed another piece. "Why are you holding out?"

He could always expect an honest answer, but he hadn't expected her to blush and hold up her left hand. "I'm not anymore," she said in the same sheepish tone that he had demonstrated earlier.

His eyebrows were probably disappearing beneath his hairline, but he managed an admiring whistle nonetheless. "I go on a mission for three months and you get Imarried/I?"

"Engaged," she corrected with a wistful smile. "His name's Liam." 

"Undoubtedly good-looking," he teased. "Otherwise he wouldn't be worth it."

Her eyes sparkled with a bit of mischief. "Not particularly," she corrected. "He looks a lot like you."

"Oh," he snorted. "That makes me feel better."

"It should," she teased, extending her hand so he could examine the rock properly.

"What does the ugly miscreant do?" he teased.

"An actor," she supplied. 

"That explains his ability to buy you one of Coruscant's moons," he said with a nod.

She rolled her own eyes, then pulled her hand back. "There's no need to be jealous, Jinn," she chided.

"I'm not jealous," he protested honestly. "I'm happy for you."

That hurt much worse than jealousy.


	3. Chapter 3

"A great friend your cousin is," Yoda said with a toothy smile, "but unaware I was that he had had such a skilled negotiatior in the family."

It was hard to tell from this height, but she seemed to be blushing slightly. Of course, it could have been the lights of the passing transports.

After all, he had never had a date with a neck that was longer than his entire body. To make things more interesting, Yarlin Pouf was small for her race.

"You flatter me unnecessarily, Master Yoda," she said in a reedy voice. "I only do my duty in the Senate, as you must in your own arena."

He nodded understandingly. "Many there are who do not care for that."

"Many there are who do not care for the minds they've been given," she rejoined with a laugh.

"A wise person you are," he commended. "Why chosen have you to retire this year?"

"I wish to spend more time with my family," she explained. "We just welcomed our first great-great-great-granddaughter and time seems to be passing me by too quickly."

"Young you are yet," he teased. "When eight hundred fifty-seven years you reach, look as good..."

He shook his head before correcting himself. "Look much better you will."

"Master Yoda," she chided, raising her water glass out of his line of sight, "you flatter me too much."

"Flattery it is not," he harrumphed. "Flattery is deception, while truth this is." 

The waterglass reappeared, then came to rest on the tablecloth just before she extended one long-fingered hand to him. 

"Would you like to dance?" "This was a great idea," Obi-Wan enthused. "No one else was brave enough for the weather, so we've got the theater to ourselves." 

"Much better than worrying about the usual idiots wanting to test how many sticky substances they can get in my hair," Carmyn agreed. "Ever since it got past my knees, boys of all ages have seemed to have a fascination with that pasttime."

He nodded sympathetically. "It's like the initiates' fascination with Padawan braids," he lamented. "I once was in danger of having it removed just because I got between a six-year-old and a tube of paste."

She giggled, then clapped a hand to her mouth to stifle the sound, but he didn't feel offended in the slightest by her mirth. "What happened?"

"They waited until it dried, then chiseled what they could off," he explained. "The rest they left on until I could wash it out with the most abrasive shampoo known to sentient beings."

The laugh escaped her again, this time unrestrained and beautiful and he found himself wanting to hear it again.

_Stop it! You're a Jedi! A Jedi shall not know love!_

This isn't love. This is a service to an enjoyable human being.

Isn't that the same thing?


	4. Chapter 4

CAUR Part4

"So, have you chosen the date?" Qui-Gon asked as Noela rummaged around in the refrigeration unit for something appropriately dessert-like.

"Come now, Qui-Gon," she chided, turning a grin on him. "I didn't ask you on our twenty-fourth date to discuss wedding plans."

"I haven't asked you what shade of fuschia your bridesmaids will be wearing or how many guests I'm allowed to drag along to the spectacle," he countered.

"Who said you're invited at all?" she shot back.

He just grinned. In a moment, she turned to regard him in puzzlement, half-molded custard forgotten in her hand. 

"_Fuschia?_"

"Obi-Wan's date was wearing that fetching color in multiple places tonight," he explained. "Apparently, Corellia is rather...liberal in its dress code."

She shook her head in unbridled amusement, then binned the custard with an expression of disgust. "It's Corellia," she reminded. "They're rather liberal in just about everything."

He reached out a hand and pulled her aside before she could find her concentration again. "Go find something in the cupboards," he ordered. "You're not going to clean out my fridge on top of everything else."

"On top of everything else," she parroted. "What everything else have I done?"

"Kept an old man entertained," he mused, "broken his heart..."

She grinned. "You're a bad liar."

He wasn't sure it was a lie, but he returned the smile to be gracious.

"Fine," she sighed. "You have all the makings of a bread pudding, so since it will be a while before my driver can get the transport deiced and back here, I'll make one of those."

"Anything I can do to help?" he offered.

"You didn't let me help me with the imitation-bruallki," she reminded. "I'll practice my domestic skills on my own, thank you very much." 

"As you wish, milady," he said, bowing his way out of the kitchen.

He settled onto the couch, legs crossed as he watched her at work. She had the endearingly obnoxious habit of humming very off-key while she worked, so he tuned it out and therefore missed her question the first time.

"Sorry," he called. "Didn't catch that."

"I figured," she said genially. "You would have forgotten to listen to an earthquake in that state."

"What state?" he asked curiously.

She considered him carefully as if trying to get the exact measure of the situation. "I wouldn't call it sulking," she conceded. "Not at all, but you're in one of those deep contemplation modes where only a natural disaster will rouse you."

She _had_ been talking to Obi-Wan, after all.

"So, what was your inquiry?"

She suddenly looked very shy, which was quite uncharacteristic of her. "I wanted to know if you would give me away."

"Pretty tough to do if I'm not invited," he said without thinking. 

That at least seemed to keep her at ease. "That's not an answer," she stated.

It would be difficult, but it was a job he would trust to no one else. She meant too much for that.

"It would be my honor," he stated.


	5. Chapter 5

CAUR Part five

It was a rare thing to see Mace Windu in a panic, but then again, it was rare to find him being accosted by a seven-foot furball.

Well, perhaps accosted wasn't the right word, but certainly fawned over. 

Nevertheless, it was highly amusing to watch, but Obi-Wan didn't dare mention that to the man who had invented the most aggressive form of lightsaber combat.

The Wookiee, he had heard, was a famous concert miniature kloo-player, but you would have never guessed it.

As it was, she seemed to be quite taken with Master Windu, but he looked as though he were being asked to do the breaststroke through a cesspit. Not that he wasn't being a gentleman--Master Windu was known for being quite personable when he made the effort--but he definitely was afraid of returning the aggressively affectionate advances of his date for the evening.

He had wanted to shrink into his seat to avoid being noticed by the happy couple--or rather the happy Wookiee and the terrified Korun--but Carmyn had chosen the exact moment when they had become engrossed (or grossed out) by the holopic to chuck a handful of tchak-nuts at Master Windu's head.

"Oi!" she bellowed. "Boloball!"

The worst thing was that Master Windu actually responded to the slur.

"Get your walking carpet to slouch a little, will you?"

Obi-Wan chose to stare straight at his popphraig bucket, apparently fascinated by a burnt one.

"This is a Galaxy-renowned musician, not a walking carpet," Mace said sternly. "If this is an inconvenience..."

"You're Sithin' right it's an inconvenience," Carmyn snorted. "Right, Obi-Wan?" 

He mumbled something along the lines of "burbleburbleI'mnotgettinginvolvedinthisburbleburble" and took her hand.

"Carmyn," he said quietly, "there are plenty of other seats in the theater. We can certainly..." 

"Expect these latecomers to occupy those," she finished. "Just whip out your lightsaber and scare them off if you have to..."

He had the feeling that there would be lightsabers involved in the near future, but not in their intended capacity.

"I'm sure that's not nec..."

And then the Wookiee threw herself across the seats at his date.

Too stunned to move, he was about to use the Force on both of them when they burst out laughing.

From his limited understanding of Wookiee, he guessed that Mace's date was saying something about the look on his face while Carmyn was choking on laughter about boloballs.

"I guess," she said at last, gasping for breath, "that I never introduced you to my mother's best friend..."


	6. Chapter 6

CAUR Part 6

Unsure he was as to what was more revolting.

On the one hand, taking far too much pleasure in the holopic Padawan Kenobi was, since bloodlust unbecoming a Jedi is. On the other hand, most inappropriate was the way in which did Tala paw at Master Windu.

Most inappropriate his attempts to escape were.

With that in mind, used a Mind Trick on Master Windu Yoda had. Claimed he had many times that weak-minded he was not, but weak-minded makes us all a beautiful woman does. "Well, that went well," Obi-Wan said wryly, sparing a glance at the terrified Master Windu who was still trying to avoid a permanent attachment to his personal upholstery.

"Tala is an old friend of the family," Carmyn repeated with a grin, "and our favorite game is trying to confuse the Sith out of those around us."

"It worked," Obi-Wan grinned. "I was ready to mind-trick the both of you and Master Windu is now the victim of someone who thinks it highly romantic that he defended her virtue."

"Which was your intention in the first place," Obi-Wan guessed.

"And to see how much of a gentleman you would be," she added.

An uncomfortable heat rose in his cheeks. "I apologize for not wanting to make..."

"Easy," she said with a slight grin. "You reacted the way I hoped any Jedi would." 

His panic eased, but the color remained humiliatingly in his cheeks. "Thanks," he murmured.

"So," she called to Mace, "are you two kids interested in a bit of dessert?"

"A sensible idea, since we won't be able to navigate through this storm," Mace mused. "Any suggestions?"

"There's a great bakery just next to the Senate Arboretum," Obi-Wan recommended, "and it's not too far from here."

"The one run by three Grans and an Ewok?" Carmyn asked.

"You know it, then?" Obi-Wan said, delighted.

"Of course," she responded. "The Ewok is a friend..."

"Of your mother's," Mace finished. "Is there any furry thing that isn't?"

She considered for a long moment. "Not that I can think of," she admitted. "Shall we be going?"


	7. Chapter 7

"Master Windu, a word?"

It wasn't usual for a senior member of the Jedi Council to be lectured by anyone, but Master Yoda tended to be a champion at that particular sport. From the look on his face, it seemed very likely that this was his intention in approaching.

Mace bowed formally to Tala. "If you'll excuse me for a few moments." 

She growled something that seemed to shock his translator into silence, but he got the gist just from looking at her eyes. It was impossible to think of a mop as lascivious, but she was succeeding in conveying that.

He couldn't imagine what, in particular, was irking Master Yoda. He hadn't been rude or standoffish, he hadn't encouraged the physical advances... 

"Distressed you seem," Master Yoda said once they were out of earshot of their companions. "Of what help can I be?"

For a long moment, he was silent, not because he was contemplating his answer, but because he was too shocked to think.

"She's all over me," he whispered at last, voice urgent. "Help!"

"Explained you have about the Jedi rules of attachment?"

"Thrice," he hissed. "It's mortifying and terrifying and she wants to get my comm code!"

"Fear not," Yoda said, though Mace had the distinct impression that he would have sniggered if he weren't too diplomatic to do so. "Speak to her I shall." 

"Thank you," Mace sighed. "Just don't hurt her..."

Yoda nodded sympathetically, then shuffled away towards Tala.

"AND LEAVE THE STICK BEHIND!"

"I was wondering..."

For the first time that night, Carmyn was actually looking bashful. She caught him observing that and seemed even more preoccupied with her julaberry torte. 

"What were you wondering?" Obi-Wan asked, keenly and suddenly interested.

"Well," she said, shifting in her seat, "I know that you do this sort of thing each year and I'm sure the Corellian embassy would like to support this tradition..."

His eyes glazed in shock for just a moment, since it was a rare and unique person who even bothered to consider a Jedi in this capacity.

"Carmyn, are you asking me on a date?"

"Gods, no," she spluttered. "Jedi don't date. This was just..."

If possible, her blush got even more noticeable. "Oh, kriff it," she laughed. "Yes, Kenobi, I'm asking you on a date." 

Well, why not? She was a talented, entertaining and charming person that he could certainly endure at least once a year, under duress, of course.

He wasn't sure that he was getting it right--he'd never attempted such a thing--but he made a passable attempt at kissing her hand.

"I'll reserve the spot," he promised. "Looks like it's finally clearing up," Noela sighed. "Pity. I was hoping I could impose on you for a midnight snack."

Qui-Gon waved a hand generously. "You know where the food is," he reminded. 

"Yes," she laughed, "but after dessert, I'm not sure there's any left."

He shrugged. "If you want to get that custard, there _were_ parts of it that didn't have mold..."

It was a testament to her diplomatic patience that she didn't throw some of the popphraig that she was eating at him, but surprisingly, she looked immensely saddened. 

"I'm going to miss this," she admitted at last. 

"Me, too," he agreed before he could stop himself. "It's been a noble tradition for two and a half decades and it's a shame to ruin it with something as absurd as marriage."

Her eyes were lowered as she shook her head, smile still genuinely in place. "Indeed," she murmured.

He pushed to his feet, retrieving the wineglasses to take them to the kitchen, but before he could turn away, a glint of moisture on her cheeks stopped him.

The tissues were certainly within reach and she knew where they were, but it didn't require even a first thought for him to set the glasses back down and crouch, retrieving a tissue to brush away the tears.

"Surely I'm not _that_ great of a companion," he teased gently.

"No," she agreed, hand wrapping around his wrist, "but you've been the only one who has never given me cause to break things off." 

"You have perfectly good cause," Qui-Gon reminded her. "If you fell in love with him, he must be the kind of man that the poets idolize."

She laughed with a bit of a sniffle. "I think so," she confessed, "but then again, I kept coming back for twenty-four years because you were one of those, too."

For the first time in all their years of friendship, Qui-Gon Jinn found himself in need of a tissue as well. 

"He's a very lucky man," he murmured.

She nodded. "I think he'll be good enough to let me visit an old friend once a year," she suggested, "even if I have to nag him into being that amiable."

He never expected to be that relieved at something that only happened once a year.

"I'll see you next year, then?"

Her smile solidified. "Tomorrow," she corrected. "I still owe you an art exhibit. I might even bring Liam along."

He nodded. "He likes that sort of thing?"

"He pretends," Noela corrected with a roll of her still-damp eyes. "He pretends very effectively."

Bereft of something more effective to say, he planted a kiss on her forehead, then retrieved the glasses once more.

"We'd better get you home, then," he suggested. "If you'll comm your driver, I'll look into what non-moldering custard we have."

He was halfway to the kitchen when her voice stopped him again. "Thank you, Qui-Gon." 

It went without saying that she was not just speaking about the food, but he required no further explanation.

"My pleasure," he responded. After such an enthusiastic beginning, it was a surprise to find that Tala left him at the door with a friendly, furry peck on the cheek and a promise to put a good word in for the Jedi at the next meeting of the Finance Council.

It was a relief, to be certain, since he had worried about his ability to hold her off any further, but there was only one explanation, so he commed Yoda to find out what exactly what it was. 

"You didn't tell her that I adhere to the Alderaanian Holy Law of Chastity, did you?" he asked warily.

"No," the Grand Master said with a slight smile. "Reminded her I did of the Jedi code."

"I tried four times," Mace protested. "What did you do different?"

"Convinced her I did," Yoda smirked, "that break your heart she would if return her affection you were unable."

"And..." 

"A gentlebeing she is," Yoda assured him. "Enough that was."

A miracle that was.

Yoda bowed slightly. "Good relations I have with the Wookiees..."


End file.
